Two Days Before
by Mark Geoffrey Norrish
Summary: Written for the QLF Challenge. Two days before the First War broke out, the Dark families still had high hopes for the future. Dialogue.


AN: The _Sacred Twenty-Eight_ is from extended canon, but, like Ron speaking Parseltongue and his mother killing Bellatrix, it snapped my suspension of disbelief. Supposedly the Weasleys despise their inclusion because of their "ancestral interest in the Muggle world", but it's implausible that they would have remained pure-blooded for so long if the family hadn't actively encouraged it, or that Arthur could come from a family of Muggle-lovers and still know so little about us. Therefore, I'd interpret this as being political revisionism.

Apologies to Margaret Mitchell. And J.K. Rowling, of course.

… … …

The sun was high in the pure blue sky, shining down on The Outpost, the Greengrasses' ancestral home, and current site of a summer barbecue.

The Sacred Twenty-Eight families, with a few unfortunate exceptions, spent their summers throwing parties for one another, sometimes inviting particularly interesting members of the upper middle class, keeping abreast of the latest scandals and complaining about their relatives. The younger generation would flirt or gossip or play Quidditch; young adults would try to talk business with the older men, until they were eventually shooed away, before the real business began.

The families took turns to host, but it was widely agreed that The Outpost was the best location during summer. They had acres and acres of land, far away from any unsavory eyes, like those of Muggles or blow-ins and their Light supporters. They could play Quidditch to their hearts' content, or go walking among the Greengrasses' rows of plants, some of them quite exotic imports.

On this particular day, the Greengrasses had invited members of six other families for their barbecue; it was widely accepted that seven was a reasonable number. There were a great many unwritten rules about who might be invited. For example, one couldn't invite the Prewetts and Carrows together, ever since young Alphonse Carrow had made a Scene about the Prewett Squib, and the two families almost duelled; or the Longbottoms, who were relatively light, with any of the committed Dark families; or the Weasleys with the Blacks, at least, not when Bellatrix and Arthur were both likely to come.

The ladies had retired to the dining area for refreshments, the children were outside on brooms, and the men were in the sitting room, talking politics.

"Cincinnatus," said Nott, "can we trust you to vote the right way this Monday?"

Laridore Nott was well-established as one of the more approachable members of the hardline Dark bloc. It was an open secret that he had anonymously published the _Pure-Blood Directory_ and was at the forefront of the long-debated Purity Bill.

Cincinnatus Greengrass was a large man, and even after six generations of nobility still had something of the farmer in him. "I'm afraid you can't," he said, as though sincerely sorry. "I mean to abstain."

There was a collective intake of air from Nott, Black, Bulstrode and Weasley, the Darker men present; Abbott and Selwyn, the latter of whom had become much more receptive to Greengrass' views since the engagement last spring, nodded along.

"You can't be serious!" cried Orion Black, a loud and rather bull-headed man who generally came to dominate every discussion in which he participated by virtue of having the loudest voice. "Abstain! To vote against, I could understand, had you gone over to those Light upstarts, but to abstain! What are you thinking?"

Gethin Selwyn was a slim brunet, and one of the more thoughtful men in the room. He didn't always fit in with the more self-assured Black, Nott and Weasley, who knew in advance what opinion they were going to have after a discussion. He cleared his throat.

"Because blow-ins are useful, if one is willing to use them," he said, and pointed to a window. "Out there, Greengrass has over two dozen of them, picking herbs and cultivating Tentacula for him. This is worth real gold, gentlemen. Real gold that will go to my daughter's children."

"But you can't just separate that from their other effects on society," said Black. "How do you let them know about magical plants without letting them go to school, and think they can touch our daughters? How can they be any help without knowing our lore?"

"We're perhaps a little more liberal than some Dark families," said Greengrass. "I prefer letting things sort themselves out. And as for letting them into Hogwarts, well, if they pay their own way, or some Light do-gooder puts a scholarship up, well, what harm does that do to me? Our Dwynwen clearly knew enough to stay away from that rabble. As long as they don't try to take over…"

"A big if!" said Black.

Greengrass shrugged. "If they tried, we'd win. Imagine, blow-ins fighting better than pure-bloods! No, as long as they're willing to work for me for slave wages, I'm quite content to let them get what education they may, thank you very much."

"Why not give the work to deserving wizards?" asked Nott.

"Pure-bloods handling Venomous Tentacula?" scoffed Bulstrode, the only one any of them knew larger than Greengrass and less tactful than Black. "For Weasleys, perhaps, but not the rest of us!"

Septimus Weasley, who as a seventh son had had to make his fortune by marrying into the Blacks, responded with a gesture he would not have made had his wife been present. Orion stood up, scowling.

"Peace, friend, peace," Greengrass said hastily. "Taffy, more brandy, please!"

A silver tray laden with alcohol floated over, a pair of little green feet barely visible beneath it. Orion shot one last warning look at Bulstrode, but sat back down and took a glass of nettle wine.

"Even so," said Nott, "surely you'd prefer to employ part-bloods. I'm sure you can find plenty of able mules who know their Herbology, a damn sight better than some Muggle-raised rubbish."

"Well, maybe I can, maybe I can't," said Greengrass. "But part-bloods know their place, much better than blow-ins do, and it's not working out there in the sweltering heat milking Pufferferns. Certainly not for the wages desperate blow-ins will take. They may be dull and uncouth, but they're not afraid to get their hands dirty."

"But that's just typical of this generation, isn't it," said Selwyn. "None of them willing to do what's expected of them."

They all carefully avoided Weasley's eye. He had been very understanding of his eccentric son, carefully cultivating his romance with a Prewett girl, rather than simply disowning him, as Black or Bulstrode might have. Then again, they both had problems of their own; Black's elder son had been Sorted into Gryffindor last year, and came home with all sorts of Ideas from there. He'd already taken pains to tell his younger to come home a Slytherin or not come home at all. Bulstrode's only son had apparently grown fond of some Muggle girl, who wasn't even pretty; the only reason he hadn't been disowned was that he had no brothers. The scandal would outlive Bulstrode.

"Still, what are we to do?" said Greengrass. "We can't let the farms go idle. Those herbs are a vital part of our economy; the Ministry feeds our troops with the taxes we pay."

They all politely declined to point out that Greengrass, like most of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, paid less in tax than an entry-level clerk.

"Well, that's just what the Bill is designed to solve," said Nott. "Without blow-ins to foist their responsibilities onto, our young people will have no choice but to take up the slack and work the land for us all." Black and Bulstrode nodded.

"Are you sure about that?" said Abbott, the token centrist. Greengrass made sure to invite at least one person Darker and one Lighter than himself, so he never seemed like a radical to anyone. Abbott was slight and meek, and generally quite inoffensive; having him present meant that Black and Nott could orate at someone without seeming to be talking to themselves, but without risk of Abbott actually saying anything and provoking Black into a rage. "I rather thought the Bill was supposed to keep blow-ins out of wizarding society altogether. That's how I interpreted –"

"Yes, yes," Black interrupted impatiently (as he always did when talking to someone with whom he disagreed), "but don't you see the flow-on effects? No blow-ins taking our jobs means more jobs for our part-blood cousins. Our Ministry will still be able to pay our boys, and all without needing to give welfare to those Light traitors and their blow-in wives."

"I'm just not sure that's what will happen," said Abbott nervously. "I mean, what are these part-bloods doing now? If they're idle, I can't imagine them beginning to work. Young people can be so lazy. And if they aren't –"

"They'll have no choice!" thundered Black. "When they see the sacrifices we've made for them, of course they'll work for the greater glory of Britain. The alternative is simply inconceivable!"

"Well, perhaps I do our part-bloods a disservice," said Greengrass, "but I'm less confident in your predictions. I'd be happier to see the Bill implemented in stages, you know, cutting out the blow-ins bit by bit, so that if your promises aren't borne out, I won't lose my entire workforce."

"Impossible!" cried Black. "With Dumbledore and his thugs trying their utmost to Lighten our blood, if we don't push as hard and fast as we can, they'll push through their own legislation and undo generations of work. We simply cannot afford not to be confident in ourselves!"

"It's a problem, certainly," agreed Selwyn, "but we cannot afford to make one mistake just to avoid another."

"Well, what about Voldemort and his people?" said Weasley.

"Now that is a man who knows what he's about," said Orion. "What a visionary!"

"I mean," said Weasley, "he's already been associated with some … rash elements and actions." Going into details would have been tasteless. "What do you suppose he'll do if the vote fails?"

They turned to Nott, who, along with the Malfoys and Lestranges, was known to be one of Voldemort's supporters. "Well, I'm not at liberty to discuss Death Eater affairs," he said importantly, "but let me just say this, it would be best for Britain if the Bill passed."

"Would it mean war?" asked Weasley.

"The Dark Lord has refused to rule out any of his options in that contingency," Nott said.

Selwyn and Greengrass exchanged apprehensive looks. Wars could be profitable, but not when you were in the middle of them. Weasley frowned; Abbott tried to catch his eye. Black and Bulstrode ignored all this and cheered.

"Well, serve them right then!" declared Black. "After all these insults, they deserve to be licked! We'll show them how real gentlemen fight!"

"They have Dumbledore," Weasley said uneasily. And his son might be on the other side. "And the Ministry would side with the Light, if Voldemort declared open war…"

"I'll wager Voldemort against Dumbledore any day," Black said joyfully. "He may have defeated Grindelwald, but he's a has-been. Voldemort is on the rise, you mark my words."

"And he has an army of his own, doesn't he?" said Bulstrode. "Giants and banshees and werewolves…"

"Werewolves?" said Abbott, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

"Sometimes you have to make alliances with those you'd sooner avoid," said Black, tapping the side of his nose. "It's politics, you know. Did you know, my Regulus is right into Voldemort? Has copies of all of his speeches and everything. He asked me if he could join the Death Eaters, ha! I told him he'd better wait until he was older."

"Poor boy, you mustn't give him false hope," said Nott. "By the time he's old enough to join, blow-ins will be a thing of the past."

Weasley gave Abbott a meaningful look. They would talk later, in private.

"To the future, then, gentlemen," said Greengrass. He took a glass of port and held it aloft.

"To the future," they chorused, and drank.


End file.
